In the little time he's been awake, Wei Wuxian has pondered what Lan Zhan told him. The Ninth is haunted, and knows it to be so; despite this, she has made no effort to seek help. She is not in distress.

(She is in love.)

Her declaration puts a hand into his guts and squeezes, hard enough to drive the air from him. He readjusts his grip on the mug. Nods.

"I understand," he says, low.